Thursday April 23rd 2009 is a date I will never forget. On the Wednesday evening Simon and I were supposed to be going away to Dorset for a mini-break, but as Simon had a headache we decided to go down on Thursday morning instead.

We were up bright and early, just putting the last bits and pieces in the car when the phone rang. It was my daughter Kristie, who lived with my twin sister Tina and her husband, Woody, and their family. She told me that Tina was in hospital about to have an emergency operation. She had suffered a brain haemorrhage late on Wednesday night and was due in theatre any minute to have life saving brain surgery. I felt my legs go to jelly and I could hardly speak. I had been speaking to Tina only the evening before and she had been totally fine.

I went straight to Tina’s house as her children all needed to be cared for and I wanted to be with Kristie too. Tina and Woody had been unable to have children and had adopted seven learning disabled children over the course of several years. They ranged in age from three to seventeen at the time. It was an unreal morning, trying to hold myself together for the sake of the children, but desperately waiting for the phone call from Woody, who was at the hospital, to find if she had made it through the surgery. Finally just after lunch Woody rang to say she was in intensive care but that the surgery had been successful. I was over the moon. I had been praying so hard and felt that my prayers had been answered.

Within a couple of days Tina was moved to the High Dependency Unit and was doing well. She complained of the most dreadful headache but the staff told us that was quite normal due to her brain surgery. After just a few more days Tina was moved to a general neurological ward and appeared to be making excellent progress. She was able to walk and talk quite normally and have a shower and walk around the ward. The expectation was that she would be home within the week!

Kristie and I were visiting her daily and on the Thursday, just a week after her operation, we had all been sitting chatting about the programmes she would be watching that evening when the nurse brought her tea, which included a small bowl of ice cream. Within minutes Tina’s speech was becoming confused and then I noticed that she was having problems eating her ice cream. Her hand was making odd movements and she was unable to hold the spoon. I alerted the staff on the ward and they explained that she might have some fluid on the brain and would carry out a lumbar puncture to release any fluid. When I left the hospital that evening I was obviously concerned, but the staff had been very reassuring and it seemed that this was quite normal and that the lumbar puncture was routine.

The following morning I rang the hospital and they asked me to visit urgently. They explained that Tina was once again in intensive care. I was not at all prepared for what faced me that day. The consultant explained that Tina had suffered a massive stroke due to having a vasospasm, a rare side effect of the brain surgery. In layman’s terms, the blood vessels within her brain had gone into spasm and no blood had been able to reach the frontal lobes. I was warned that they fully expected her to die. I don’t know how I managed to physically stand by her bed, I was shaking and crying so much. She was lying there covered with wires and tubes, buzzers kept going off and she was fitting, which was terrifying to watch. The machines that were keeping her alive required almost constant attention by the special nurses who were with her. I couldn’t believe that she had been doing so well and now they really thought she would die. I prayed so much that day, I asked God why this happened and kept telling Tina over and over again how much I loved her and that she would come through this ok. When I eventually left the hospital that evening I emailed every healer I could find on the internet asking if they could please send Tina healing.

I really didn’t think I’d be able to sleep that night, but nervous exhaustion thankfully sent me straight to sleep. I awoke in the morning dreading the news from the hospital. I phoned and they said she was ‘stable’, but added that there had been no improvement. I went to the hospital as soon as I could and was met by the ward sister who told me to expect the worse. She explained that only the machines were keeping her alive, and even if she did survive the prognosis was that she would be severely disabled and unable to enjoy any quality of life as her brain was so badly damaged. Yet again I sat with her, talking to her, stroking her hand gently. I prayed that she would not leave me. I had lost my Mum, my Dad and my brother all within the space of three and half months just a few years before, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of losing my twin sister too. I talked to her about our childhood, about the fun we used to have, about family memories, even about the battles we’d had. I just felt that I could not give up.

I was sure one day that she had lightly squeezed my hand as I was about to leave, but the nurses assured me that she wouldn’t be able to do that. They said that her brain was unable to distinguish my voice and that she most probably did not have the ability to understand anything I said to her. I ignored their advise and just carried on chatting to her right up until the moment I had to leave in the evenings. Days went by and there was no progress and it became more and more likely that she would just fade away. I was totally heartbroken. I had never lived through such a time. Being an identical twin is impossible to really understand unless you are a twin yourself. We had been together since before we were born. We had shared virtually every part of our lives, most of our childhood and teenage experiences, and even though we had fought dreadfully at times, we were always there for each other and loved one another more than can be explained. Now, days in to her stroke, I was trying to come to terms with the real possibility that this was the end. That I would not have my twin sister anymore.

They decided to carry out a further operation to install a shunt, a drain in her brain, which would release the fluid from her brain into her stomach. The operation was in itself risky, but without it she didn’t stand a chance, the fluid in her brain was building all the time. Again there was the dreadful time of waiting to see if she had pulled through and thankfully she did. We waited for a couple more days to see if there was any improvement, but still Tina just lay there motionless, on full life support, with every vein in her body seemingly linked to some needle to give her life saving fluids and drugs. They even had to start using the veins in her feet as they were running out of veins in her arms, her hands and her shoulders.

I continually asked God why this was happening and what more could I do to help her and her family through this, but I was too upset to hear any answers. Finally, in desperation, I called a medium that I found on the internet. I didn’t want to phone anyone who knew me, I really wanted someone who had no previous knowledge of who I was. Immediately she began speaking to me, she described our Dad in the most wonderful detail, and told me that he was talking about someone very close to me who had suffered a bleed on the brain. She said this person was in a critical condition and was literally between worlds. She then went on to describe our Mum, both physically and her character, and said that she was with both of us. Amazingly she also described our brother and said that he was looking over us and that he was giving me the strength to cope with it all. She told me that Tina was aware of them with her. I asked her why this was happening and she said that Tina had chosen to go through this before she was born. She explained that it was an experience Tina’s soul had wanted and importantly it would show who would support her and who wouldn’t, who would be able to understand, and who would turn away due to the severity of the situation. I did ask if Tina would survive and the medium told me that she couldn’t answer that, but said that Tina had a very strong spirit and that whatever happened was supposed to happen. I was stunned by such an accurate reading, but still had wished that I could have been told what would be the outcome.

The next day I went into the hospital again and as I walked in I said my usual ‘Hi Sis’ and took her hand. I was sure her eyelids moved and then thought I felt her gently squeeze my hand again. I didn’t mention it to the nurses, who I felt sure thought I was imagining it, but inside I felt a warm glow and a real sense of joy. Something in me realised that she had turned the corner, that she would be ok.

For the first time in weeks I felt an inner calm, an inner strength, I knew I could cope, as if I had been shown there was light at the end of the tunnel. I was full of optimism for her future. Tina’s small movements became almost like a secret code between her and I. Many times that day her eyelids moved as I said something funny and her fingers softly brushed mine. I gave her a kiss goodbye before I left and said I’d see her the next day.

The following day I was over the moon to see that Tina had her tracheostomy tube removed. She could breathe on her own! That was a huge hurdle. As usual I said ‘Hi Sis’ when I arrived and I almost fell over when a few moments later she uttered, in a very hoarse voice,’ Hi’ – she was back!!! The nurses were laughing and clapping and the whole atmosphere in the unit was lifted. She didn’t say anything again for a few days, but she still kept moving her eyelids and through her squeezing my hand I could feel her strength grow day by day.

After several more weeks Tina slowly made progress to the point where she was transferred to a neurological rehabilitation unit within the hospital. She was paralysed on her right side, still doubly incontinent, unable to even turn herself, unable to swallow food, and only able to say a few words, but she could laugh, and we would share afternoons laughing at the times we had been through together. I would sit with her and we would watch comedy shows and it would lift her spirits. It really did seem that through joy and laughter she became better and better. Through everything that had happened to her she had managed somehow to keep her sense of humour.

Over the two years Tina spent in two specialist rehabilitation hospitals, she showed incredible inner strength and courage, overcoming the most enormous obstacles. Learning to do even the most basic things from scratch which most of us take for granted. She suffered dreadful setbacks, crippling pain in her paralysed arm and leg, frustration of a damaged brain that would not function as she wished, and the agony of a broken hip from falling over when trying to use a walking stick. She had to be admitted to a normal hospital for a hip replacement operation and this caused even more problems as people didn’t understand her speech and her understanding of language, having had such a serious brain injury. Everytime they asked her if she required painkillers she said yes, even if she didn’t, and by the time she was returned to the rehab unit she was totally bombed by the amount of morphine in her body. It took weeks for her to get back to some sense of normality. She suffered incredible loneliness and depression whilst trying to come to terms with the fact that most importantly, she had lost her independence.

There were so many experiences that had me in tears over the time she was in hospital, but one of the most memorable occasions for me was when she was first able to stand, albeit with support, and we could have a hug. It was the best hug I’d ever had. We were both in tears as for the first time in many months I held her in my arms and she could hug me back too. Another wonderful memory was just before her first Christmas in hospital. The nurses organised a Carol Service and arranged for a local choir to come along and we all sat singing the carols. Many of the patients sang too, including Tina, who still has a beautiful singing voice. They gave her a microphone and she sang Once in Royal David’s City. With tears streaming down my face it took me straight back to when we were both five and were angels in our school nativity play and we had sung that very song together back then.

I was amazed by the most wonderful work the teams at the rehabilitation units undertook to get Tina as far along the recovery route as possible. Their patience and understanding was incredible. I was overwhelmed by the gentleness and kindness of other relatives visiting their loved ones who were also going through the most traumatic times and yet there was a camaraderie between us all, all supporting one another and all living for the time when those dear to us would regain even a little of their lives. The love within the rehab units was so strong. They were places of both immense sadness and unbelievable joy, much laughter and sometimes, sadly, unbearable heartache.

I was stunned by the kindness from the wonderful worldwide community of healers, many of whom stayed in contact with me throughout her two years in hospital. The strangers, literally scattered across the globe who showed an interest and continued to send their healing thoughts to Tina. I will never be able to thank them enough. I was so saddened by the lack of support from the friends and relatives that Tina had. I would never have thought that those whom she had loved and considered close backed away and found themselves too busy to even phone to find out how she was. I was appalled by the total lack of support from social services who I had assumed would be able to offer some kind of help to Woody and the children, but who in reality basically told me that as the children had been adopted and not fostered there was nothing they could do. Just as the medium had said, it was an experience which showed people’s true colours.

It was an eye-opener where friends and relatives were concerned, but it has made us both realise who really matters and who had only been there for the good times. The marriage vow, ‘for better, for worse’, often comes to my mind when I think of the people in Tina’s life who moved away from her and her family during this time, when they needed the love and support the most, and sadly received it the least. Some people even voiced that they felt it would have been better that she had just died. It is something I have tried to understand, but just can’t grasp. Maybe the lessons are for all of them, maybe they too one day may require those they hold dear to have the patience and understanding to deal with such a trauma, who knows. Some things are beyond my comprehension and maybe I will find the answers when I am once again back with my family in the spirit world.

Tina amazed all the consultants and specialists involved in her care. They said many times that her recovery was a miracle, that it should have been impossible for her to make the progress that she has. Although paralysed on her right side she is still improving. She has learnt to walk again, to eat again, has regained her speech, kept most of her memories and importantly has made new friends through her involvement in stroke clubs that she regularly attends. She has become an avid reader, has learnt to master her i-phone and laptop, how to use Spotify to listen to her favourite music, and can play a mean game of scrabble! I feel blessed that I still have my sister and that I have been able to share in such an enlightening experience.

I thank Mum, Dad and our brother Ray, for the continued love and support they have given us, without which I am sure I would have crumbled. I thank God for Tina’s ongoing recovery and for the strength I was given to cope with this. Most of all I thank Tina for being my twin, she is an inspiration.

I have recently been questioning one of my deepest held beliefs. Not that I would ever doubt spirits existence, or that we are eternal souls, no, I have no problems with that. What I have been doubting is the almost universal belief that somehow, love conquers all. It seems to me that everywhere I look, either on Facebook or within spiritual internet sites, the over-riding message is that love is all you need, love will overcome anything, love is the key to happiness. I have been struggling with this the past few years. Yes, I believe that if we all based our decisions on love, our actions on love and our thoughts on love, the world would be a better place, but unfortunately not everyone does!

Maybe it is true in the universal sense, and maybe it is also true in a soul sense, when you take many lives and average it all out, but I’m talking about this one particular physical life we are living right now. In my experience, and that of some of my closest friends, no matter how much you love someone, they can still use you, betray you and abuse you. Recently a very dear friend of mine had been blatantly used and deeply hurt by someone she considered a life-long friend, a woman she had always tried to help and support in any way she could. She can find no rhyme or reason for her friend’s behaviour and is extremely upset. I feel powerless as all I can do is listen but I can’t take away her pain. Finally, after many weeks of emotional hurt she came to the decision to end their friendship. Whilst that may well help her to avoid any further mistreatment by her friend, she is left still reeling from recent events. I wonder what lessons are being taught when someone who so obviously cares about another is mistreated by them.

My own personal experiences have been difficult to contend with at times. I used to firmly believe that if you showed someone love and compassion that they would treat you well, but often through my life I have found the absolute opposite to be true. I have puzzled over this many times and had thought that it must be a certain kind of lesson that needed learning. I have even tried to feel grateful for the role that someone must have agreed to play to assist me in walking my spiritual path.

Logically it makes sense to me that kindness should help people to overcome their difficulties. This is something I have pondered for such a long time and have asked my spiritual guides for some guidance on this but so far have not received any answers.

When you make the decision to help someone, in whichever way you feel they may benefit, whether it is just a gentle hug, a time to listen to them, or assistance in a more physical sense, why do they then turn around and be rude or malicious towards you?

It has happened in my life so many times that I can see a pattern of events. What I am hoping is that one day I will have a ‘light-bulb’ moment and suddenly the reason behind this will fall into place. My husband, Simon, tells me that he thinks I am too gentle, too soft and too forgiving. I have so often wished I could toughen up as I think my life may be so much easier, but the problem with that is that I wouldn’t be me anymore.

My brother always used to laugh at my tolerance and lack of temper. Considering the parents I had, who honestly could have won the olympics if there had been an arguing event, you’d have thought I would have a quick temper, but this isn’t true at all.

I still remember my Mum’s look of amazement when she saw me lose my temper for the very first time when I was fourteen. We had been to visit Dad in hospital where he had just undergone life saving surgery and he was on full life support, so to say we were concerned and stressed was an understatement. Mum was driving our large estate car, and I have to say she wasn’t the most confident of drivers at the best of times, but with the worry of Dad obviously on her mind, she had become distracted and taken a wrong turn. We ended up in a very narrow dead-end street with cars parked each side. At the very end there was little space to turn around. It was only just after 9pm, so not what you would call very late. Mum had to try to turn the car around which meant going backwards and forwards many many times. She was, I admit, revving the engine a little whilst trying to navigate safely and gently between the cars, but the noise wasn’t that bad. Well this chap came out of his house and started really shouting abuse at Mum. Without a thought I jumped out of the car and walked right up to him and gave him such a ticking off. I was livid that he had upset my Mum and certainly let him know it. I told him where we’d been and what was happening to my Dad. Much to my surprise the man became very apologetic and offered to help Mum with the reversing. What a turn-around!

I have always found it easier to fight other people’s battles rather than my own. My brother used to say that I was like the worm that turned, and by that he meant you could push me so far and then that was that. How right he was. I have to admit that I can take an awful lot but finally there is the straw that breaks the camels back, and funnily enough it is often a very little straw!

I have had to break ties with people I have truly loved because they have behaved so badly towards me, and it comes to a point when you realise that all the love in the world cannot change their behaviour, and so very sadly and reluctantly, there really is no choice but to walk away. Sometimes the hurt of staying in a relationship becomes so deep that your physical body cannot cope with the pain, and sometimes, and possibly even more importantly, you have to learn to value and respect yourself, which I have found the toughest lesson to learn.

I saw this too with my own Mum. She tried so very hard to have a good relationship with her Step-Mother and did everything she could to try to make it work. When we were a young family we would all travel up to London to see my Nan. We would make this journey at least once a month. Mum and Dad would have to save hard to pay for the petrol and would always be praying that the car wouldn’t break down because it was pretty old and extremely unreliable. At the time there were no such things as baby seats in cars and Mum would have to spend two hours sitting in the back of the car with my twin, Tina, and I in her arms. She laughed when she told us by the time they got there her arms couldn’t move! As Tina and I became older we both suffered from dreadful car sickness. How Mum and Dad coped with this I just don’t know, it must have been a nightmare for them. I know that Mum would always keep a couple of spare outfits for us and on many occasions as soon as we arrived at Nan’s house we would have to nip upstairs and change into fresh clothes. Thankfully our older brother Ray was not car sick, that would have been unbearable!

When Tina and I were eleven we went to stay with Nan for the week before we started at senior school. Mum and Dad took us up there and we spent a wonderful time with her. We went to see shows in London and enjoyed meeting all of her friends and generally having fun. When the week was up Mum and Dad came and collected us and strangely the mood in the car on the way home was decidedly frosty. Sadly for us, that was the last time we ever saw our Nan. A week or so after our holiday Mum made the decision to break all ties with her. I was devastated. I had adored Nan and couldn’t understand how Mum could be so cruel.

As a young child, what I hadn’t known was that my Nan could actually drive and had a very nice car. She would tell Mum of all the trips she took to see her various relatives all over the country and yet she had only ever made the journey to visit us once in the eighteen years since Mum had married. Nan was very comfortably off and would help all her relatives, and yet she never once offered any help to Mum at all. Mum told me years later that she had spent so much time broken-hearted at the way Nan treated her that finally she couldn’t take the hurt anymore. I know now it was not an easy decision for Mum to make and I know that she remained extremely upset about it for the rest of her life. She had lost her Dad when she was in her early twenties, and having been told that her natural Mother had abandoned her as a baby, she had desperately wanted to have a loving relationship with Nan.

It took me a very long time to realise that what I and others had perceived as weakness, was in fact an enormous act of strength on my Mum’s part. I can’t imagine the courage she must have mustered to be able to walk away under those circumstances, but she did, and I am sure that in the following years she certainly didn’t miss the heartache that she had endured for so much of her life. One day, when I am once again in spirit and I have my life review, I feel certain that all will become clear …… but in the meantime I must admit I really find this all so very hard to understand.

Over the years I have been to see many mediums giving demonstrations. Some have been ok, some have been so dreadful it was an embarrassment for everyone, and some have been very good.

A few weeks ago I was told that Mandy Wylde would be giving a demonstration of her mediumship at Woolston Spiritual Centre, a newly opened non-denominational centre near Southampton. I had met Mandy only a couple of times at another spiritualist church I attended a couple of years ago. I was introduced to her by another friend, Jane, and she had told me that Mandy was a very good spiritual healer and a medium, but I had never known anyone she had carried out a reading for.

A couple of a my friends were going along so I decided it might be a nice way to spend a summer’s evening. My friend Annette and her husband Colin had opened the centre a few months before but as I had been unwell I hadn’t managed to go along and see everyone, so it would also be wonderful to catch up with some old friends and see the new centre.

All the way there my tummy was churning, which is something that happens whenever spirit are close to me. It is a familiar feeling if I am sitting for spirit or in any kind of development group, but not normally when I am going to see someone else give a demonstration. I told my friend Niki that my tummy felt very odd and she said that it might mean I was going to be given a message. I have been to many demonstrations over the last few years, but so rarely received a message from any of my loved ones in spirit that I didn’t really consider that this particular night would be any different.

As soon as Mandy stood up I really thought I was going to be sick, my stomach went totally ballistic and I thought I might have to leave the hall because I felt so dreadful. Then, seriously, every single hair on my body went on end, I had the biggest whooshy feeling I had ever experienced. Mandy started talking and said she had a woman in spirit with her and was talking about a house fire. I knew we had a house fire when I was very young so I kept listening to the evidence she was giving. Then she went on to say that this woman had arthritis, which again Mum had suffered with. I was still wary of putting up my hand because I would absolutely hate to steal someone elses message, but then Mandy said she could hear a song being played that she knew was important to both the woman she felt was with her, and the recipient. The song was Don’t It Make My Brown Eyes Blue’ sung by Crystal Gayle. My goodness, I was struggling to hold back the tears. When I was younger I had quite a good singing voice and Mum had specifically asked me to record myself singing this song. She carried the tape around with her for years and always made her friends listen to it whilst they were travelling in the car. Immediately I put up my hand.

Mandy went on to give me the most wonderful evidence that she had my Mum with her, evidence that none of my friends even knew. It was the most beautiful heart warming message and Mandy conveyed exactly the personality of my Mum. She even talked about a discussion I had been having earlier that day, which there was no way in the world she could have possibly known about it. It was amazing.

She then went on to give other messages to several other people in the hall. Each of them was delivered with respect, kindness and a real sense of who they were. She managed to lighten the atmosphere when required with funny anecdotal evidence but was also able to give the most touching messages. It was a real pleasure to spend the evening watching her demonstrate and I could have happily sat there for much longer. The hall’s atmosphere was fabulous, everyone was laughing and smiling, some were crying with joy and gasping at her incredible accuracy. She gave names, relationships, addresses and really unusual information. I have to say it was the very best demonstration of mediumship I had ever seen.

A couple of weeks passed and another medium was due to hold the Sunday service at the centre, but had cancelled for some reason and so Annette asked Mandy if she could step in. I hadn’t planned on going along at all, but as the weekend went by I really felt that I must go. I wasn’t exactly sure why, but I knew I would regret it if I didn’t go.

It was another lovely summers evening and the atmosphere of the hall was warm and inviting. There are large windows along one wall and the sun was shining in as we all sat there waiting for the evening to begin. I couldn’t believe it when yet again my tummy started churning and I kept praying that it would stop. To begin with Mandy gave a wonderful reading and address about a man who had been struck by lightning and had medically died but who managed to survive and could remember being dead! It was fascinating, especially the enormous changes it made to his whole life. So often I have sat through the most long-winded boring addresses and just been waiting for them to finish, but this was really interesting.

We sang a couple of songs and then Mandy stood to give her demonstration of mediumship. She gave several excellent messages to different people and after a while I could see from the clock that it was almost time for her to finish. I wondered why my tummy had been churning so much, having secretly hoped that maybe I would receive another message, but I didn’t really dare hope that would happen. I had already enjoyed the evening so much so was thinking that we would be going home in a minute or two.

Then Mandy started physically describing a man who sounded very much like my brother, and again I was covered in goosebumps, but didn’t put my hand up until I had heard more. Mandy then talked about his personality, which was quite unique and she said he was telling her the name Ray – which was my brother’s name. I just knew it was him, so excitedly put my hand up. Yet again Mandy gave me astonishing evidence and even more wonderful was that my aunt had come with him, and Mandy gave the most wonderful unequivocal information about her too.

I realised then why I had been so keen to go along. I felt so blessed that in a matter of just a few weeks I had received messages from both Mum and Ray. I am sure that a bright future lays ahead for Mandy. She is such a good medium that as word spreads she will certainly be in great demand!

Comment emailed to me by Mandy Wylde:

Dearest Tisha,

I am moved to tears after reading your journal, I am so thrilled you felt so much peace and love on the two occasions you came to Woolston Spiritual Centre. Some months ago I asked spirit, “put me where you want me to be”, I guess they did. I love giving evidence from the spirit world to bring love and comfort, thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelings, much love xx

There have been several instances in my life where being aware of more than just our physical lives has sometimes felt like a double-edged sword.

When I was in my early twenties my ex and I lived in Twickenham and we would often drive along Richmond Road to Richmond. One day we drove past a truck with a lift attached to the back. I have no idea what they are called, but they have a small cage which normally has one or two men in it whilst they carry out maintenance to the street lamps. As we drove towards the truck I could see a film in my head of the cage being hit by a double-decker bus. I felt sick in my stomach and without realising it had let out a very loud “oh my God”. He asked me what the problem was and I told him what I had just seen in my head. He kind of tutted and said it would be fine. It was quite a long road and before the road went to the left round a bend I looked out of the back window back towards the truck. I could see a bus coming along and then to my horror it hit the cage. I gasped and shouted “oh no, you have to stop” but my ex was in busy traffic. He said that as the road was busy there would be lots of people to help. I think he expected me to just carry on as normal but I just couldn’t.

In August 1990 I was working and living in Okehampton, Devon. Working so close to home meant that I could go home for lunch and give myself a welcome break from the pressure of my work. I remember one day so very well. I had sat down to eat a sandwich, put the television on and saw that the lunchtime news was giving information about a missing little girl. She was only eight years old and very strangely had been taken through an open window of a caravan whilst she and her family were on holiday in Bridport, Dorset. As I watched I felt so worried for her and concerned for her family. I doubt that anyone can imagine how it must feel to know that your child has been taken and you have no idea where she is, or even whether she is dead or alive.

Oddly, as I watched the footage of a line of police officers scouring the local fields for any evidence, I had another movie playing in my head. I could see the little girl in a derelict house with a young man and she was frightened and crying. Most importantly she was alive. I felt the man was mentally unstable and that concerned me more than anything. Then, just as suddenly as the ‘movie’ had started, it stopped and I was back to watching tv again. I was quite taken aback and really thought that it was just wishful thinking.

There was a part of me that thought I should do something about the pictures I had just seen, but the logical part of me disregarded the nagging voice in my head, and so I put it to one side and went back to work. Throughout the afternoon though I kept seeing the same movie over and over again, and no matter how I tried to ignore it, it just wouldn’t go away. Finally, by the time I had finished work and went home I was beginning to think I was going mad. I was sure that by now they would have found the girl and as soon as I got indoors I put the tv on to see the evening news. Again, they showed the police looking for her, and yet again in my head I was shown the house she was in.

I had a lurching feeling in my stomach as if I had just been given some bad news. I realised then that I couldn’t sit and do nothing and so I decided to phone my local police station. I had half expected them to tell me not to waste their time, and was in fact already wondering what else I could do if that was the case. Much to my surprise the man who answered the phone listened patiently and told me they would send a detective to come and see me. Even more surprising was that he arrived only about ten minutes later.

As I opened the door a wave of embarrassment came over me, I told him that he most probably would think I was totally crazy but I just knew I had to do something and didn’t know what else to do other than phone the police. He was actually very nice and told me that having been in the police service for a number of years nothing surprised him anymore. He asked me to describe the house and the young man I had seen and also asked if I could draw the house for him. I tried my best to explain everything in the greatest detail I could, I managed to draw a rough sketch of the house and signed a formal police statement. As he left I literally prayed that someone somewhere would take notice of the information and that they would start to search houses for the little girl rather than looking in the countryside for a corpse. I really felt that time was running out and that they had been looking in the wrong place.

I hardly slept that night, and again, first thing in the morning put on the tv to see the news. The little girl had still not been found. I felt I had no option but to drive the 65 miles to Bridport. I was hoping against hope that I would somehow be able to spot the house, and if I did I had planned to then inform the police. I drove around for hours, but didn’t see any houses like the one I had seen in my vision. I sadly and wearily drove back to Okehampton. A huge part of me felt I had let the little girl down and I was becoming concerned that the video I had seen in my head seemed to have gone away. I just prayed that nothing dreadful had happened to her. I was glued to the tv all evening and there was still no news.

Again I had a restless night. I was puzzling why I could no longer see the pictures in my mind and also wondering if I had somehow imagined the whole thing. At last the morning arrived and the first thing I did was put the television on. Still no news. I went to work, struggling to stay awake and to stay calm but with my tummy continually churning, which I have learnt over the years is a physical response I have when spirit is close.

Thankfully that day the little girl was found, safe and well. I was absolutely amazed when they showed the house on the tv and zoomed in – it was exactly the derelict house I had described to the police. Also, as I had told them, she was with a young man who was later found guilty of kidnap and imprisoned in a secure mental health unit. I now wonder if my visions had stopped because I had done all I could. I doubt if I will ever really know.

As expected I never did hear anymore from the police on this, but I do hope that my statement made them realise, for the future at least, that it is worth listening to information from mediums.

After this event I seemed to go through a couple of years where many times, especially when a child went missing, I would be shown the most sad and often harrowing scenes but I was not given any further information. I would also watch tv interviews of families where children had gone missing and know instinctively who was responsible, but with no evidence to back it up I couldn’t contact anyone. I just knew that there was nothing I could do. On each occasion my ‘knowing’ was proved right. Eventually I asked my guides not to let me have information if there was no action I could take to help and thankfully those kind of visions stopped.

On the plus side, when I was learning to drive in deepest Devon, many of my lessons were on very narrow winding roads. Very often my driving instructor would comment on my sixth sense as I would often be happily whizzing along for miles, then I would just know to slow down and pull over, and sure enough a car would always come the other way. I had several lessons with my good friend Jeanette and she became really spooked by my unusual awareness. On so many occasions I would know exactly what other cars were going to do, even if their signals and road position indicated otherwise. One time we were behind queuing cars at traffic lights and I was supposed to get in the empty right hand lane to turn right, but I held back. Jeanette told me to move forward but I insisted that the car at the lights, indicating left and with his wheels already pointing in that direction, would be pulling across in front of me. Jeanette laughed and just thought I was being daft. Sure enough though, as the lights changed, the car in the left hand lane suddenly swung to the right and tore off at great speed.

Almost thirty years ago I had a wonderful spiritual reading, by telephone, with a medium I had never met. Straight away she asked me if I ever felt ‘cobwebs’ on my face as I was driving. I said yes. it was quite normal for me, and she went on to explain that it was a sign that my maternal Grandfather was with me. She told me he was a lorry driver in his life time and he was looking after me. She knew nothing about me, but she was right, he had been a lorry driver, and since that time whenever I feel ‘cobwebs’ on my face I say thank you to my Grandfather. This has happened so many times, and still does, I really feel I am so fortunate to have him watching over me.

Over the years I have learnt to trust spirit and the visions I have which have rarely been incorrect. I have sometimes wondered if my life would have been easier had I not been so aware, but in reality I wouldn’t change a thing. My connections with spirit have made such an enormous and positive difference to my life and hopefully, at times, have helped others along the way too. If through my awareness, even just a few people have been touched by the love of spirit and the knowledge that our lives, right now, are only part of our souls journey, then I feel truly blessed.

My Dad was a research scientific glassblower. He had trained after he returned from serving in the war and after many years as an apprentice went to work for an oil company in their refinery.

As a young girl I was mesmerised when I would spend hours with Dad in the garden shed as he made all different objects in glass. He would normally be making atomisers by the dozen, something he did to help pay for the very old car he and Mum had managed to buy. It was always going wrong and to pay all the garage bills Dad would take on extra work in the evenings and on weekends.

In his shed he had shelves filled with glass of all different colours and would make small ornaments for us. He’d ask us what we’d want and we’d excitedly shout out cat or dog or horse and within minutes the glass would be transformed into funny little characters. Even with his large hands Dad would craft the most beautiful intricate glass furniture for our dolls house and tiny glass coat hangers for our dolls clothes. It was always like magic to me, watching him heat the glass in the flame and then with various tools he would pull it into different shapes, sometimes blowing into it at the same time. It was wonderful and I loved our time together in the shed and the strange smell that only a glass blowing room has. For fun, Dad would blow very fine glass bubbles, they would waft up into the air and were so fragile that you could put your fingers through them and they would virtually disappear. Dad made beautiful gifts for friends and relatives and everyone would be in awe that he had made them in the shed. If he had not had the responsibility of a family and the need for a regular income I am sure he would have preferred to spend his time creatively rather than working with all the technical glass blowing at the refinery.

When I attended a spiritualist church in London many years later, there was a young man, Martin, giving his very first inspired talk. You could tell he was extremely nervous and I had even seen him pacing up and down in the hallway before he had to take his place on the platform. He needn’t have worried at all as his talk was very good. You could tell that the congregation was hanging on his every word and you could have heard a pin drop.

I noticed his aura expanding whilst he spoke and could see a vague outline of what appeared to be someone standing to the right side of him. I turned around and looked behind me to see if it could be a shadow or a play of the light, but everyone was sitting down and there were no obvious light sources. The medium on the platform was sitting to the left of Martin so I couldn’t see where this could be coming from. As he continued speaking I noticed an odd movement to the right hand side of him. There was a white-painted handrail with railings beneath which ran along the length of the platform and Martin was standing behind them and occasionally leaning on them. To my absolute amazement I could see the outline of someone leaning on the rail far to the right, and the more I looked the more form the shape took. Eventually I could see it was a man, a little taller than Martin, and surprisingly, he looked as if he was made of the glass bubbles that my Dad used to make. He was shiny and transparent! It seemed an age that he was there, leaning on the handrail looking at everyone. I kept blinking to clear my vision because I just couldn’t really believe what I was seeing. When Martin sat down the man was no longer visible and the service went on as normal. However, when Martin stood again to say the closing prayer I could clearly see the man again. It was an experience that I know I will never forget. I spoke to Martin afterwards and asked him if he was aware of anyone standing near him but he said he wasn’t. I did very much feel that this may have been a spirit who was there to assist him.

As time went on, and as I saw various mediums working, I began to see more and more outlines on walls behind them which would gradually form into ‘glass’ people. Often it would be quite vague but sometimes I could make out distinct features, even clothes that were being worn and very often the medium would then give that as a description of the spirit communicator.

When I had been away from my mediumship for several years it appeared that this ‘gift’ of seeing spirit on walls or ‘glass’ people had all but disappeared. I was chatting to some friends last summer and saying what a great shame that was. Then, much to my surprise, when I attended a local spiritual workshop I was sitting watching another medium demonstrate when I began to see the familiar outline slowly appearing on the wall behind her. I was thrilled! As we worked that day the visions became clearer until I could actually use the vision as the basis for one of my readings when I was called to stand up and demonstrate. I saw a ‘glass’ man leaning on a very old country gate and could see the countryside around him. Strangely I was also shown the most massive womans breast, which took up most of the wall, and I knew that he was connected to someone who had breast cancer. I was fortunate enough to be told his name, which is something I always ask for but don’t always get. I described him and the connection to the breast cancer and gave his name and immediately a woman could accept him and my communication with him strengthened. I was so grateful that I was able to give the recipient a good message from her loved one.

I often think of the ‘glass’ people I have seen and having spoken to several other mediums it does seem quite rare and I do wonder if watching my Dad making his glass bubbles all those years ago somehow stirred that gift in me. Thanks Dad!

Simon and I went down to North Devon a couple of weekends ago. I used to live there and sometimes feel a real longing to drive along familiar country roads and walk along a typical sandy Devon beach and feel the fresh sea air on my face. I have a friend who lives just outside Barnstaple, Susan Roberts, I have mentioned her in my blogs before. She set up and runs the English Psychic Company, and she was my first real teacher of mediumship. She ran a tight ship and accepted nothing but the best. My evenings in her classes were a mixture of trepidation and relief. She set such high standards and expected nothing less of us, her pupils. She wouldn’t even accept you on a course until you had passed a test to prove that you had some potential, and that was nerve-wracking in itself.

I first met Susan after my Mum had died and I had heard her (Mum, not Susan!) talking to me in the loo, always late at night. The first time it happened I thought it was my imagination, but immediately as I thought that Mum told me it wasn’t. I came out of the loo and didn’t tell anyone what had just happened as I was sure they would think I was crazy. The following night, just before bed, again in the loo, Mum talked to me again, I told her that I was sure she was a wishful thought and again she told me she wasn’t. Well if you are real, I said, make the lights go on and off. To my utter amazement, the lights flickered! You have never seen anyone move so fast out of the loo! This happened for several nights. Nothing at all in the daytime, but come my last visit to the loo, there would be Mum. I didn’t see her, but I could feel her presence, her warmth and love, and I could hear her voice, definitely hers, not mine, but inside my head.

During the day I was so sad, missing my Mum so much, but feeling quite mixed up knowing that in the evening there would be this very odd form of contact. I tried to reason with myself that the whole thing was just too bizarre and to be honest I often felt that I was losing the plot. It was a secret I kept to myself. Part of me dreaded going to the loo because I was quite afraid, but another part would be looking forward to the comfort that I felt every night knowing that Mum was ok and was still around.

After a week or so I decided I really should do something about all of this. Ever since I was a very young child I had been aware of spirits, of energies around me, of knowledge that from my earthly life I shouldn’t’ or couldn’t have known, but this was very different, I had never had an ongoing communication with someone who I had known and loved before.

I had met a spiritual healer, Liz Gilmour, at a local spiritual fayre a couple of years before and had kept her business card in my purse. I felt sure that she would know of someone locally I could go and see to try to find out what was going on. I rang Liz and without telling her any information at all I asked if she knew of anyone who could communicate with spirits. Without hesitation she recommended Susan Roberts. She told me that Susan had an excellent reputation and was very down to earth. I rang Susan straight away and made an appointment which was for a week later. She asked me to bring along a photo of the person I would ideally like to get in contact with, but she said she couldn’t always guarantee that that person may communicate. Apart from that she didn’t ask me anything else at all. Part of me was so excited to be seeing a professional medium and the other part was absolutely terrified. I had no idea what to expect and kept feeling the biggest butterflies in my tummy every time I thought about it.

Eventually the day of the reading arrived and with an enormous amount of trepidation I went along to see Susan. It was such a relief to be welcomed by a ‘normal’ woman who immediately put me at my ease. She showed me into her sitting room which spookily overlooked a graveyard, I remember thinking how funny that was. I showed her the photo I had taken along and straight away Susan told me it was a photo of my Mum who had died three weeks before, She told me about Mum’s illness and how she had died. Then, much to my amazement, and laughing as she told me, she said that Mum had been talking me in the loo! Everything Susan told me was absolutely accurate. I skipped out of her house and driving home felt so uplifted and positive totally knowing that my Mum had been chatting to me.

I had no idea at the time that I would again be in contact with Susan within a few weeks. My brother Ray died totally unexpectedly just six weeks after my Mum. He was only fifty and was found in his bed at home. At the time we had no idea how he had died or what was the cause of his death. I spoke to Susan just days after Ray died, as again I was sure I could feel him close to me. She gently started to explain that it was most probably too early for him to be able to make contact, but as she spoke I could sense her hesitating. She asked if a red tricycle meant anything to me. It certainly did. As I said yes she started receiving more evidence from Ray. She told me exactly how he had died and most importantly for me, that he had felt no pain. She told me that his heart had literally just stopped. That he was here one minute and gone the next. Just like that. No pain at all. I was so relieved as I had been concerned that he would have been distressed. Sure enough when we received the results of his autopsy it confirmed that his heart had just stopped and that his passing to spirit would have been instant.

Over the years I have been fortunate to have met several wonderful mediums who have given me the most fantastic evidence and messages from those I have lost. I do think that if I hadn’t met Susan at such a difficult time in my life I would have been very doubtful, but she was so accurate with everything she said that she gave me confidence to explore the amazing world of spirit both as a medium myself, being able to give comfort to those missing their loved ones, and as someone myself so pleased to hear from those I love who are in spirit.

I have absolute confidence in Susan and when she told me that over the years she had been contacted by several spirits who wanted their experiences of death heard by a wider audience, I could appreciate why they had chosen her to tell their stories. She had written their stories exactly as she heard them, and over a long period had built up quite a selection. Spirits contacted her from all walks of life with very different stories to tell. She decided to bring the stories to the stage and called the production The Afterlife Monologues. Several of her students took the roles of the spirits and spoke in the first person, recounting their memories. I was intrigued and was so sad when I was unable to attend the first time it was on at a theatre in Devon. It was by pure chance just a couple of months ago that I asked Susan is she was thinking of putting on another production. She said that one was planned for the end of March. That was wonderful news! I could go and walk along the beach, see some old friends, and go and see the Afterlife Monologues all within a long weekend. I booked the hotel straight away and Simon booked the time off work. We were so lucky with the weather. Our journey from our home in Hampshire was just beautiful. We stopped by a field of new-born lambs, watching them running and playing, then found a country pub where we enjoyed a fantastic lunch on a sunny roof terrace. It couldn’t have been better.

We met Susan at her premises and sat near the back so that we could see everything. The stories from the spirits were just incredible, The readers were amazing and bought the stories to life. You really felt they were telling their own experiences. When we spoke to some of the readers in the break they said that they could feel the emotions of the spirits whose stories they were reading, which was certainly conveyed to us in the audience. Simon, who I had thought may find it all a little boring, actually really enjoyed the evening. Afterwards when we were sitting having a drink in the bar in the hotel he was asking so many questions about spirit. Far more than he ever has in the years we have been together. I believe that the moving and realistic way in which the experiences were bought to life really made his mind open up to the reality of our ongoing lives in our spiritual form. I do hope that one day Susan will make a dvd of these stories so that an even wider audience can experience these for themselves.

I do think that one thing that so many of us find so hard to talk about is physical death. It is a subject that many people avoid as they say it is depressing and also of course many find the whole thing terribly frightening too, which is understandable. It is though, the one thing that we all know for sure will happen to us at some time, yet most of us are totally unprepared for it. We are also unprepared for the death of a loved one. It is almost taboo to talk about such things unless you are talking to an insurance salesman or a solicitor who is drawing up wills.

I know that when my parents and my brother all died within less than four months I wouldn’t have been able to cope without the certainty that their spirits, their souls, still existed. It was largely thanks to Susan and her spiritual communications that I could manage to get through those dark days. I was talking to her after my Dad had died, telling her how very sad I was and how much I missed him. She told me something I will never forget. She said that whilst we are all so upset here for losing someone we love, at the same time there are massive celebrations in the spirit world as that person is being reunited with loved ones who have passed before. She said to imagine that my Dad was on a ship, leaving the shore, waving to me as he went, but when the ship completed its journey, he would reach another shore where his Mum and Dad and his brothers and sisters would be waiting to greet him. I thought of that many times over the years, knowing how pleased Dad would have been to see his family and in particular his twin sister Mary again, knowing how much he missed her throughout his life.

We had a wonderful time back in North Devon. I did manage to walk along my old local beach and enjoyed feeling the warm sand between my toes, breathing in the crisp clear air. We drove down many winding country lanes, shared lovely times with old friends and Simon took some great photographs. What a great mini-break we had, and how delighted I was to have been able to see the Afterlife Monologues. I know the stories and experiences of those spirits will stay with me always.

I was really chuffed to be the recipient of this award given to me by the very delightful blogger Summer Grant (isn’t that just the most wonderful name!) who writes the blog anyonething which I thoroughly enjoy reading. I love the enthusiasm and honesty of her posts which share her journey of studying to be a journalist/writer and her avid joy for the written word. She has a great sense of wit and has an opinion on almost everything. A really refreshing blog which I would advise you to take a look at!

The Candle Lighter Award is an award for a post or blog that is positive and brings light into the world.

The Candle Lighter Award belongs to those who believe, who always survive the day and who never stop dreaming, who do not quit but keep trying.

There are no rules.

If you wish to, simply accept it and you are done!

You are also free to decline or ignore it.

Recipients can pass it on to as many nominees as they wish and as often as they wish.

I am really pleased that Summer finds my posts so positive. In spiritual circles, those of us who work for spirit, whether as mediums, healers, counsellors, writers, or in many other ways, are called lightworkers, so it’s rather apt that my spiritually based blog should receive this.

With that in mind I would like to nominate another spiritually based blog, the tovarysh connection. I tend to read these gentle posts again and again and always find further nuggets of wisdom to consider throughout my day. I do hope that you will take the time to look at her inspirational words and insights into life.